How to Disappear
by blueskull
Summary: AU. Amane Yuuichirou is the heir to one of the most influential families in Japan. He's never taken much interest in the servants of his household, until one day he sees—
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** How to Disappear (Chapter 1)

 **Words:** 1936

 **Warnings:** Sexual abuse.

 **Notes:** This is my first Owari no Seraph fic, and my first MikaYuu fic. Truthfully, it's my first fanfiction in a while. I've recently gotten into ONS, more specifically MikaYuu hell, and I'm kinda enjoying myself. I hope you enjoy! If this is received well enough, I'll likely be continuing it. I love critiques, tips, suggestions, and whatnot, so if you have any to offer, feel free to do so.

• • • • • • • •

It's days like these that Yuuichirou wonders why his life has to be so god awfully boring. He's not interested in politics, but it's still a part of his weekly curriculum. The only thing that makes it more bearable is that Crowley Eusford is an easily distracted lecturer. He is taken in by many things – women, wine, an errant thought that winds its way somewhere underneath his red and brown hair – and so the main subject of their talks is frequently discarded for something else. Yuu definitely isn't complaining. It's something he's grown to appreciate in the few months in which Crowley has taken up his occupation.

Although he'll probably be fired soon once his father catches wind of the fact that Yuu's political prowess isn't progressing at all. He'll just have to pray he'll find someone equally incompetent later down the road. He rather wonders how Crowley got this position at all – it's probably something to do with his name, he guesses, as he watches the boisterous man unashamedly flirt with his blonde assistant. Yuu sometimes wonders what she _assists_ with; her job hardly seems to be anything other than giggling at Crowley's jokes and occasionally carrying him a glass of wine or a book. Yuu would ask him if he really ought to be drinking this much during the day if he didn't want to draw attention to himself and risk reminding him of his actual objective in the five minutes remaining of their scheduled time.

Speaking of which. Yuu's green eyes flick uneasily toward the clock looming above Crowley's head. Yes, five minutes till noon. He can hold out waiting five minutes. He moves as slowly as possible as he twists to turn toward the window, peering through the recently wiped and shined glass to the courtyard beyond. It's a lovely day, and probably one best spent mucking around outside. Drawing, maybe. Drawing is so much better than reading. Maybe he'll get one of the servants to bring his sketchbook for him; he can try penciling one of the new trees they brought in last week. Or, even _better_ , maybe he'll get one of the guards to spar him. Sitting like this for so long has made him antsy. He hasn't really had an excuse to really _fight_ anyone lately, and he doesn't have fencing lessons until next week, since his instructor is taking a _vacation_ , of all things. A _vacation_.

Yuu snorts.

"Oh, sorry, Yuuichirou-sama, did you say anything?" Crowley's lilting voice seems to ricochet across the room, and the charcoal-haired teen jerks in his seat, nearly falling off as his gaze snaps to the tall man. He's looking at him, expectantly, a bit confusedly, as if he's just remembered Yuu is actually present with him in the room. He tries spluttering a reply. The ringing of the timer bell saves him. "Oh!" his sorry excuse for a tutor announces, clapping his hands loudly. "I suppose that's all for today. Good work, Yuuichirou-sama." He grins that same grin Yuu has always found infuriating as he gets to his feet and stretches like a cat.

"Yeah, thanks," Yuu responds, more than a little ungraciously, standing as well. He casts the blonde and the redhead a brief glance as he finally makes his way out of the stuffy study room. Another round of pain avoided. One might argue that sitting doing nothing for an hour is more aggravating than trying to learn about the head families of Japan and their relationships with one another, but Yuu could really not care less about that. It's not really the best trait for the heir to the politically crucial Amane family, owner of one of the most influential companies in the country, to have. Sometimes, Yuu thinks he must have been adopted.

Chuckling a little at that thought, he allows himself to trail down the hallway, passing a few guards along the way. Their armour isn't heavy – they're truthfully more like assassins, in some ways, than guards. One salutes as Yuuichirou walks past, and he huffs under his breath, ignoring the guard for all intents and purposes.

Yuu has never been interested in maintaining relationships with the help. They're way too boring, first of all, and in any case, all they're meant to do is serve him. Why should he try to please them? _They_ should be pleasing _him_. The maid he remembers best is a petite redhead with glasses. What's her name? Yasuyo? Something like that. And that's only because she sometimes seems to hover around him, so it's convenient to ask her to get him things.

She doesn't seem to be around now, though. It's something Yuu only notices because he's heading to his room to change out of his sleep clothes. The dark silk pants and shirt might be appropriate for slinking about his quarters and killing time with Crowley, but not necessarily for going outside. He wants to wear something a little more – _appropriate_ for sparring. Like his training gear, for instance.

A familiar face turns around the corridor in front of him just as Yuu is about to start climbing the set of stairs that leads to his bedroom. "Yuuichirou-sama!" Ferid Bathory calls out, one gloved hand rising in a little wave. Yuu has never liked Ferid, but he pauses for the head butler anyway, one foot on the first step, and the other still firmly on the plush carpet that coats nearly every floor in the mansion. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" the silver-haired man continues as he comes closer. "Planning on doing some reading?"

There's a snide quality to Ferid's tone. Yuu fixes him with a cold glare to let him know his frivolities are unwanted.

"What I'm doing is none of your business," the boy with hair the colour of charcoal replies, promptly twisting away and climbing up the stairs. He can still hear Ferid laughing as he turns right down the corridor – and promptly collides with yet _another_ servant. Yuu can tell immediately because he is wearing white, and no one in the Amane family wears white. No one in the Amane family has blond, slightly curly hair, either – the texture is more than enough for Yuu to know that this man (no, boy, he barely looks older than Yuuichirou) is a foreigner, or at least partially so. The pin at his breast pocket further denotes his position as a butler.

As Yuu stumbles backward, he immediately notes that neither does the blond look particularly fazed, he also isn't apologizing. _How insolent_. Yuu ought to smack him for that downright constipated expression. It's as if he doesn't _have_ emotions to give – the butler's face is completely blank, and his eyes are utterly dead. Maybe he's just in shock for having such a close encounter with the one and only heir to the family. Yuu clears his throat to help him out.

He still doesn't utter a sound, simply stares at him impassively, as if he's waiting for Yuu to move out of the way, or something. Hah. Like that'll happen. Who is this _whelp_ , and why isn't anyone disciplining him? Yuu feels his mouth curving into a frown. Telling Ferid now would just give the head butler an excuse to talk to Yuu, and he doesn't really want to do that. Although he should still report this rude butler to him. A moment later, the black-haired teenager's mouth snaps up again into a wide grin. He knows what to do. He'll make this brat his personal manservant for the day, and if his attitude doesn't lighten up, he'll report him to Ferid.

"What's your name?" he demands, none too haughtily, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on his heels. The blond butler is about the same height as he is. They probably really _are_ the same age; if he didn't look so apathetic, Yuu thinks he'd probably have a pretty attractive face. Almost as good-looking as his own, in fact. There are a few, long seconds where the blond doesn't reply. Then, his mouth opens, but by then Yuu has already decided he doesn't care. "Nevermind," he interrupts, shaking his head. "You. I'm going to change. Get me a foil and wait for me downstairs."

Without so much as waiting for a response, he turns his gaze away, pointedly, making _sure_ the servant _knows_ he's not going to take "no", or any attitude, for an answer. He's still irritated when he crosses the threshold into his bed chamber and orders Yasuyo – she was in his bedroom, apparently – to fetch his fencing uniform from his closet. She does so, quietly, and he orders her to leave afterwards.

He hasn't had a girl dress him since he hit puberty, he's not about to start now. In any case, he _enjoys_ putting on his fencing gear. It makes him feel as if he can truly control at least one aspect of his life.

It only takes him a few minutes to get suited up, the light grey fencing a light contrast with the nearly black clothes he wore before. Time to go see if the blond can be an good servant, Yuu thinks, rather sardonically. He nearly runs back down the hallway and manages to narrowly avoid knocking over a few maids' carts. He feels oddly excited for a reason he can't articulate or explain. There's really no reason to be enthusiastic, is there? It's probably just because he has energy to burn, he thinks, or because he can't wait to rub that blond's nose into the dirt.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, the butler isn't there. Typical. Maybe he _should_ have waited to learn what his name was – Yuuichirou can't exactly call out for him, can he? Stifling a sigh, he lets himself clamber back down, glancing left and then right as his steps lead him to the centre of the hallway. Perhaps he'll just find Ferid, then, and ask him if he knows of any blond, rude manservants. He's probably new, and doesn't yet know what sort of job description he has.

There's a door open that wasn't before, a small storage room for clothing. Well, it's not really _open_ , more like slightly ajar, and Yuu wonders if that's where the blond went. If not, it's not unthinkable that Ferid is in there, perhaps looking for a change of shirt. Maybe he's gotten some wine stains on it, or something. He stifles a laugh as he approaches the door silently, reaching out to grip the handle, and pushes it open to peer inside.

He was expecting piles of laundry and discarded baskets. He was _not_ expecting to see Ferid Bathory pinning the blond butler to the wall. Neither seems to have noticed him; the head butler has his back to the doorway, and all he can see of the boy is a mop of curls near Ferid's shoulder, but he intrinsically knows that it's _him_.

Yuu watches in something like grotesque fascination as the silver-haired butler rolls his hips, his now ungloved hands falling to the other servant's waist. There's no finesse as he jerks the clothing down, presses himself closer, and Yuu thinks he can hear him _laughing_.

He should leave. He should leave before Ferid sees, before the other butler sees, before _anyone_ sees him –

The blond's head smacks into the wall loudly as the older man jerks his head back and buries his face into his neck. For a single moment, ice blue and forest green eyes meet. Yuu forgets how to breathe.

Then he whirls around and exits the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** How to Disappear (Chapter 2)

 **Words:** 1221

 **Warnings:** Sexual abuse.

 **Notes:** This is probably the fastest update you'll see from me, hah. As usual, feedback, critique, etc. is much appreciated!

• • • • • • • •

What was that what was that what was that what the _hell_ was that –

Yuu stumbles away back in the direction he came, toward the study room, staring at the door with horror and disgust. _What was that_?!

Well, it's none of his business what his servants want to do in their – free time, or whatever. Do they even have free time? Yuu isn't entirely sure, but he's going to find out. Still, that brat isn't getting out of this scot free. He asked him to get his foil. He's going to get his foil. Right. Yes. So Yuu has to wait.

Yuu is going to wait, but nowhere near _that room_ , if he can help it.

He's still not completely sure that the blond actually saw him. He thinks he did. He hopes he didn't, or that he won't mention anything. He recalls the blank, vacant stare, and shudders.

It's when he's near the door to the courtyard, sitting on a stool and pulling his boots on, that Yuu remembers how very much he hates _waiting_. He can make others wait for him just fine, that's normal, that's _natural_ , but to have to _wait for someone else_?! Especially a _servant_? That's unforgivable! Inexcusable! Incon –

He is midway through his internal rant and almost doesn't notice when the servant stops in front of him. He only feels the shadow across him, the change in air and atmosphere. He looks up slowly and meets unblinking blue eyes. Yuu sits up and leans against the back of the chair, taking him in. Unbidden, his gaze falls to the other teenager's hips, and he bites his lip, quickly looking away. If the other realized what he was doing, he makes no indication of it, simply holds the foil out to him in one gloved hand.

"Nah, you can hold it for now," Yuu says, standing up. He jerks his head toward the door. "Open it." He wants to hear him talk. He doesn't; instead, he walks toward the doorway and opens it almost too complacently, revealing the courtyard beyond. It's still a perfectly sunny day, as if the world isn't aware of what occurred minutes ago. The sky is vibrantly blue, the gardens stretch out in all directions Yuu can see, and a wall stands, impassive and unforgiving, at the edge of the property, breaking up the horizon and the shrubs. Somewhere beyond that wall is the city of Shinjuku. The last time Yuu went there was when he was thirteen, four years ago. He misses it, because it's more interesting than this godforsaken house, but his parents won't let him out. It's too dangerous, or something.

So he makes do with his frustration by beating people, or targets, with bendy swords.

He leads the way to the training area and notes with distinct satisfaction that the blond servant is following him, albeit mutely. The air is heavy and sticky with the scent of flowers, and Yuu inhales noisily as he hops up a step to the gravelled plateau. There are no guards to spar with, but he guesses a training robot is as good as any. It's only when he switches one on that he takes the foil from the butler and begins his routine.

• • • •

Yuuichirou frowns into the teacup he holds in one hand, one of his legs crossed over at the knee. His conversation with mother didn't go all that well today. He's never been very good at conversing with her; she angers too easily, just like he does, and while he _tries_ to reign in his temper and his voice, it's all too easy to devolve into a screaming match that leaves their throats raw and servants scrambling to attempt damage control. He thinks that this is probably the reason they don't let him go to the city on his own, or at all.

 _"You need to be more diplomatic, Yuu."_

He probably shouldn't have laughed. That was probably why she'd stared at him with something he could only describe as pure disappointment, and left without another word. In any case, he's still there, sitting with a cup of green tea, hoping she'll come back, because maybe he can try to fix whatever he's screwed up this time. Yuu really doesn't like making his mother upset. She's more tolerable than his father. At least mother doesn't try to beat him whenever he talks back – although his father hasn't _tried_ for years, all things considered.

The door opens, and Yuu glances up hopefully, only to deflate once he realizes that it's only the blond butler, carrying what looks like a basket of cleaning supplies. He doesn't spare Yuu a glance as he picks up a feather duster and wanders to a bookshelf, beginning to dust it. Hmph. What does Yuu have to say to get him to talk? Does he not know who he is?

No, that's impossible. Every person in this house knows who he is – or they should, at least. The very fact that he isn't wearing white like the rest of the servants here should at least ring a bell that Yuuichirou is _important_.

"So, do you usually let old men do whatever they want with you, or…?" There's a drawl in Yuu's tone, and he knows it, peering at the blond out of the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction. There's no response. Well, maybe it's his wording. Ferid isn't exactly _old_ , despite his hair colour. "Does that happen a lot?" he tries again. The blond still doesn't reply; he simply goes on cleaning the bookshelves, drawing the duster across them in rhythmic, almost soothing motions.

Yuu frowns slightly, leaning back against the couch. "You know, you're very rude." He might as well be talking to a wall. The butler doesn't give any sort of reaction, and the charcoal-haired teen has half the mind to storm up to him and grab him by the shoulders, maybe shake him. He sighs and throws his head back against the backrest, watching the water vapour swirl toward the ceiling as the tea slowly cools. "You know my name, right? It's Yuuichirou. What's yours?"

The swishing sounds of feathers on wood continues. Yuu gives up on hearing a reply, but after what almost seems like an eternity – "Mikaela."

Yuu practically jumps to his feet, saving himself from careening into the small table in the nick of time. "What did you say?" He almost can't believe it. Surely he didn't hear correctly.

The blond stops moving, before turning to face him. "My name is Mikaela," he says, in the exact same way as before. His voice is monotonous, but there is a velvety quality to it that Yuu thinks would be pleasant if he just inflected it with more emotion.

As it is, he can't help but laugh. "So you _can_ talk!" he declares, a little more triumphantly than perhaps is necessary. "I was beginning to think you were mute." The blond doesn't make any attempt to retort. One of his eyebrows does quirk, however, an odd contrast to the way the rest of his expression doesn't move an inch. After a while, he stops his work with the shelves and starts to clean the sole window in the room. Yuu drinks his tea and pretends not to watch.


End file.
